First Aid by Ear

“What first aid treatment in shock is administered by ear?”

I read these words in Cutting for Stone, expressing Abraham Verghese's lingering question that echoes long after I read it.

The answer is one every first responder needs to know: words of comfort.

Words of comfort speak directly into the heart and soul as first aid for the weary. Words of comfort--like friends who show up with good food-- are welcome anywhere. While reassuring words may not change our circumstances, they remain an audible reminder that we are not alone.

New parents are advised to soothe their newborns with a shushing sound directly into the ear. Whispering with gentle cooing has a role, but not for this practice. No, “Hush, Chile” from the old days will suffice here.  The modern shushing technique must be loud enough to transmit the rushing wind sound over the baby's distress to induce calm and security. It works.

It all goes back to what we know first: That primal, pulsing, whooshing that surrounded the baby before birth continues to bring comfort when applied to soothe.

Hmmm, rushing wind. Pulsing breaths. Something sounds familiar.

The ancient Hebrew word for both spirit and breath is Ruah. "Breathe on me breath of God"..... Y-H-W-H. The sound of many waters. Images flood my mind as I give it line and let it run free.

We encounter God in various ways. I have experienced God's greatest revelation in Jesus Christ, and also I remember God is said to speak in the sound of thunder (Psalm 18 and Psalm 29) and in the sound of rushing waters (Ezekiel 43:2 and Revelation 1:9-19). Some may dismiss the value of these references as simple poetic devices in ancient literature, but I am on the side of the psalmist and prophets: they offer a picture of God's speaking words of comfort administered by ear into the heart of a distressed child.



The holy hush.

God whispers above the cacophony of the world, above the tumult within, to calm and soothe and to remind us that we are always—always – God’s beloved.

Sometimes we may experience a gentle but firm shushing in a new way that gets our attention. We may have occasion to sense a whisper of sorts loudly enough to be felt and heard over the tumult where we live.

When we, like the fretful, inconsolable infant, most need reassurance and redirection, we may experience a fresh resonant Presence that surrounds us even in the midst of our ordinary lives. This caress of the Spirit that never leaves us nor forsakes us reminds me that I never doubted Jesus for a moment, only myself.

We will all have fretful days and fitful nights.

Life casts us into seas of turmoil that challenge our notions about safe harbors and security. Our brushes with crises, whether health, family or financial; marital breakdown; heartache and loss of many kinds all threaten to overtake us and drag us in the undertow. Even when we know to expect such difficulties as a part of life, they can take us by storm and by surprise when they make landfall at our doorstep.

 But it came to me clearly upon waking in the wee hours one morning, this holy hush.

And it came among the promises of the Lord to attend to us even in the night.

“When I remember You on my bed, I meditate on You in the night watch because You have been my help; therefore in the shadow of Your wings, I will rejoice.” (Psalm 63:6, 7)

“The Lord God has given me the tongue of one who has been taught, that I may know how to sustain with a word the one who is weary. Morning by morning He awakens my ear to hear as the student, as one who is taught.” (Isaiah 50:4)

“…How to sustain with a word the one who is weary.” There it is again: words of comfort.  First aid by ear. 

Each of us is a first responder in someone’s life. We need to know where to turn in times of crisis ourselves and how to initiate first aid for others. To give a warm embrace accompanied by caring words requires no special training or certification. The effect, much like swaddling a newborn to keep arms from flailing in distress, will begin to soothe a frantic soul. 

"The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God stands forever" (Isaiah 40:8).

“He strengthens the weary and increases the power of the weak. He renews the strength of those who hope in Him” (Isaiah 40:29-31).

Darrell Creswell's image used with permission.

Peace Rose Offering for Nicholas

Spring: when buds turn to blossoms.We expect that; It is the order of things. But then life happens and turns predictable patterns on end.

Vibrant colors and beauty still surround us, even on the fraying hem of a week that quickly came unraveled by bombings and unexpected events in our nation--and more private grief and loss this weekend among dear friends that the news feeds would never pick up--and we still move forward. We inch toward a new day, "...inch by inch, row by row" in  "Garden Song":  nice and slow.

Sometimes there's no other way.

We press on because we have to, because there is no going back.

Pullin' weeds and pickin' stones
We are made of dreams and bones
Need a place to call my own
'Cause the time is close at hand

Sometimes in the garden of life--somewhere between the dreaming and the coming true--those dreams collide. We face the hard reality of the dry bones portion of life and too many abrupt endings.

While some friends are grieving tonight, others are rejoicing with loved ones, anticipating weddings and births to come in a matter of days, and giving thanks for joys shared today. How can it be that we learn to live well with the point-counterpoint of birth and death, marriage and divorce, joy and sorrow? It is the nature of the rhythm of life, we are told.

We carry these two seemingly-opposite loads of joy and pain as though in invisible twin water urns lashed to ends of a pole on our backs. Sort of a Libra-meets-Gemini as we remember the constellations without attaching any unintended weight to astrology. The two are held in tension always, and we learn to live with the ever-changing contents of the loads we bear.

We  manage pretty well if we can keep life's tempo and stay in step. But when the music stops and we are left standing, or when we falter under the unbearable weight of loss and become set off balance by the load, we unravel quickly.

When we risk coming apart a bit ourselves and opening our hemmed-in lives to share the load of others, we can help bear--even if ever so slightly--the cares of another.

So we roll up our sleeves.

We get on with the business of being a friend, of loving and serving with abandon, of risking becoming disheveled and tear-stained. Because there is no other way to share a heavy load on a long road with many a winding turn.

I believe two truths to be bedrock: God is good, and Life is hard. They do not cancel each other out. They do not render each other null and void by operation of law. They are both true. At the same time.

And it is in giving thanks for the goodness of God, experiencing the Presence of God, in the midst of the searing white-hot edge of life that cuts us to the quick, that we find the grace and strength to move forward. Inch by inch.

God hears and answers those who call out to Him in distress:
“I relieved his shoulder from the burden; his hands were freed from carrying the basket. You called out in distress, and I rescued you; I answered you from the thundercloud.” (Psalm 81:6-7a).

 No distress is too big for God to handle.


Brother, let me be your servant.
Let me be as Christ to you.
Pray that I might have the grace
To let you be my servant, too.

We are pilgrims on a journey.
We are brothers on the road.
We are here to help each other
Walk the mile and bear the load.

I will hold the Christ-light for you
In the night time of your fear.
I will hold my hand out to you;
Speak the peace you long to hear.

I will weep when you are weeping.
When you laugh, I'll laugh with you.
I will share your joy and sorrow
Till we've seen this journey through.

When we sing to God in heaven,
We shall find such harmony
Born of all we've known together
Of Christ's love and agony.

Brother, let me be your servant.
Let me be as Christ to you.
Pray that I might have the grace
To let you be my servant, too.



Written by Richard Gillard, 1977, Servant Song

January Days: New Beginnings in 2013

"To be loved but not known is comforting but superficial. 

To be known and not loved is our greatest fear. 

But to be fully known and truly loved is, well, a lot like being loved by God.

It is what we need more than anything. 
 

It liberates us from pretense; humbles us out of our self-righteousness, and fortifies us for any difficulty life can throw at us."

~ Tim Keller

[emphasis mine]

And so I'm thinking.....

Liberation:

Freedom from posturing and pretending.

Always comes at a price.

 Humility:

Cannot occupy the same space alongside pride.

Pride consumes all the air.

Something's gotta give.

To be known and loved as we are--not as someone else wishes we were--is a rare experience in our world.

 

That kind of love fortifies us for the task at hand, for the tasks of a lifetime. We dare to do great things because we are not afraid.

We are not afraid of failure. We are not afraid of losing the love we once thought we had to earn. Because, we reason, if we had to earn it, we could also forfeit it in one fell, disapproving swoop.  

Fear of failure holds us hostage no more; it holds no power to control or to manipulate.

And we dare to do small things with great love, as Mother Teresa suggested, which is no less bold than attempting greatness from the outset.

Love always liberates, never enslaves.
 
We need that kind of fortifying power, that kind of strengthening of our souls when life threatens to destroy that which we thought would stand firm. For some, that means we witness the deterioration of marriages, homes, relationships, health. A picture of glacial calving comes to mind with its constantly changing state of an icy coastline. Calving may occur bit by bit or in tumultuous crashing, but few are spared the changing shape of things to come in this world.

We make life plans. 

Think things are settled for a season. 

But when one thing changes, as my mother says, it changes everything. Life unravels around the edges first because that's where it's most vulnerable. Unbound cloth, as it were.

We come to find that confidence placed in anything other than the love and grace of God will not always endure. But a life of faith bound up in this powerful love and held together in grateful communion with the God who will never let us go and does not leave us alone does not merely endure--thank you, Jesus and Mr. Faulkner--it prevails.

Thanks be to God. 

 

  

  

Singing in the Dark....for Ross

 

 Dawn birds...The very name comes to my ears in a distinct South African accent with its gentleness and beauty. This writing was inspired years ago by the life and pastoral ministry of Rev. Dr. Ross Olivier while he and his wife, Shayne, and two sons lived in Jackson, Mississippi. In fact, Ross inspired much of what I write and who I am becoming. His service here continues to send ripples throughout our lives. Ross came to us from across the miles during a particularly formative time in my life. Fully in adulthood, I was hearing and beginning to answer a call to obedience in expressing matters of faith in writing.

 I repost here as an ebenezer  in memory of Ross who died this week, still beloved pastor and unapologetic prophet. May God grant peace to his family and beloved wife, Shayne.

Dawn Birds: Singing in the Dark

I have learned of some who are facing a painful time, a loving vigil with family members right now. Each of us will be there at some time in our lives, if not now. A cherished image I have held for years may be meaningful to share with others who are in this place.


Our friend, Rev. Dr. Ross Olivier, spoke about the dawn birds of his native South Africa. He told of this tiny bird whose song is the first sound to be heard while it is dark, before the sun lightens the sky. They sing while it is still night because that is what they were made to do!

There is darkness all around us in many ways surrounding death or deep personal loss, yet there is at the same time the song of One who says, "darkness and weeping will not always endure - day is coming." The sun will always break through the night; light will overcome the darkness. Such is the order of nature, and it is the promise of scripture.

I make no claim to know how anyone else feels. I cannot speak from having been in your shoes about the unfathomable despair and fatigue and the inexpressible sense of lost expectations you have in your own situation. Each of us has to walk that path ourselves. But I do speak words of love and assurance that there is a dawn. I join the voices of others through the ages who call out praise to God in spite of circumstances, because - like the dawn birds - that is what believers are made to do. There is something inside that knows this is not the end of Life. Yes - it looks like the end of everything we know, but death is not the final word.

I believe we are not merely physical beings on a spiritual quest; we are also spiritual beings living in a physical world. This world is filled with disease, heartbreak and brokenness all its own. But that is not the extent of our experience of Life. Our minds must expand to grasp the vastness of a reality much larger than what we see and touch - a reality that includes time and space much larger that our small world will allow. Sometimes we call that heaven or eternity. But the promise of scripture is that we were made for something much more than the limited experiences our loved ones now enjoy with their disease progression and disability. Even as the body is deteriorating, we often glimpse a powerful spirit - the individuality of one who fights to live.

It is still the dark night of the soul for you and so many others. Suffering is dark and painfully bleak. I cannot answer the question of why we have such suffering in this world. And to even address it here risks violating a sacred personal space at such an intimate time. What gives hope to one person sounds arrogantly dismissive of the depth of intense suffering another bears.


I have long held a favorite scripture dear to me:

"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning." Psalm 30:5

Not merely weeping, but gut-wrenching sobbing endures for many nights! So when does the night end and morning come? Who is to say when it is dawn? Is it when the first light breaks over the horizon, or when sun fills the sky? I don't know. But I believe with all my heart it will come, and it will bring each of us into the presence of God who has been with our loved ones and with you and me all along. We will one day know the power of God's Presence in a way we only see darkly now. But we can experience some measure of God's Peace now.

He will never leave us alone. Never. Among Jesus' parting words were these:

"And I will ask the Father and He will give you another counselor who will be with you forever." John 14:16

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day." NIV 2 Corinthians 4:16

"That is why we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day." New Living Translation 2 Corinthians 4:16

Thanks be to God for a little creature who sings in the dark. May I carry a song in my heart as fuel for the journey of life.

Road-Weary and Movin' On

Today I met Lori who is just passing through our lives, she might say. She reminds me that when we pray for opportunities for ministry, we need not be surprised that God provides people in our path.

Today was such a day.

Lori shared with us about her courageous step on the journey to find safety and a healthy environment for herself and her son. We tried to help meet some physical needs and offered heartfelt prayers for her.

I feel an unsettling gratitude for the simple blessings of this sunny day: getting into a car and driving home without fear of who will be there or what he will do. Of having a quick lunch of hummus and boiled eggs out of my refrigerator. Mundane. But I do not worry if I can find something to eat at home.

I feel a sting upon entering a closet of too much clutter and more than I need, after rummaging through other people's donated black garbage bags to find some clothes for Lori and her son at the church because they left home under cloak of night and only took what they could put in the car. She is not used to getting her clothes from black bags.

Sobering.

My throat feels tight.

Tears well up again.

Psalm 25:4 “ O Lord; point out the road for me to follow.”

I pray it again for her and for each of us because it could be any one of us on that road today seeking safe passage. Our life choices have far-reaching consequences, do they not? It takes courage to break out of the cycle of abuse and stop the madness for the next generation. May God bless her and the millions who cower in fear and have nowhere to go. She still has hundreds of miles to go. And I will not forget her.
O Lord; point out the road for us to follow.

Doorways to Courage

“Always remember, you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." ~Winnie The Pooh

Encouraging words spring from many sources. Juvenile fiction holds a treasure trove of wisdom, frequently neither juvenile nor fictitious. We find more ancient parallels below as refreshment to our souls when we need to take heart--the original meaning of encouragement:


Deuteronomy 31:6
Be strong and of good courage, do not fear nor be afraid of them; for the LORD your God, He is the One who goes with you. He will not leave you nor forsake you.

Psalm 27:1
The LORD is my light and my salvation; Whom shall I fear? The LORD is the strength of my life; Of whom shall I be afraid?

Psalm 56:3-4
When I am afraid, I will trust in you.
Isaiah 41:10
So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Isaiah 41:13
For I am the LORD, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.

And parting words always call for our attention:

If there ever comes a day when we can't be together keep me in your heart, I'll stay there forever.
~ Winnie the Pooh

Dappled Oaks and Unfurling Ferns

The ancient oak tree in our front yard bears resurrection fern on each weathered limb. It also bears little resemblance to the stately one pictured above, and this photo reminds me our tree is living on borrowed time. But then, aren't we all?

On most days the fern is barely visible as dried, brown leaves crinkle along the lines of branches. But in the rain that we had today, the transformation begins. By morning, I predict the tendrils of fern, profuse and verdant, will cover the charcoal gray limbs like an icing of fresh green.

Resurrection fern, they call it: these daily reminders of the truth of God's order in the natural and, I suggest, spiritual world. And yet, how many days do I drive under that tree and never look up--never notice that it's still going on, day after day: new life out of dark places, life out of death?

The unfurling ferns remind me that God is in the process of restoring and redeeming all things.
We, too, can allow ourselves to be refreshed by the fresh springs of God's grace. We need the mist of a gentle rain to fall softly upon ourselves, filling in the parched places and reviving our hearts.

I know so many who ask for courage for a challenging life season ahead. Others need guidance for the next step. Still there are more seeking healing for broken relationships and physical disease. The trees of our lives can appear to be dying from the inside out, infected with blight common to the human condition.

But then the rain of grace falls.

We glimpse a frond unfurling...then another. Take heart!

God gives strength to those who grow tired and increases the strength of those who are weak. Isaiah 40:29

"From every dying tree trunk or rotting piece of wood, ferns and lichens grow."

From Seeking With All My Heart, p. 49, by Paula D'Arcy, whom I met last spring when she visited our church. I recommend her Gift of the Red Bird if you have not read her story of life and death.



Photo courtesy University of Florida site http://www.sfrc.ufl.edu/4h/Resurrection_fern/resufern.htm

Bridge Over Troubled Water

"I'm a worrier," she said frankly. "It's what we do. My mother was a worrier, and I come from a long line of worriers. I don't understand how you can change that."

Does this ring true for you?

Recent conversations with friends remind me that fear and worry bear down on us, young and old. The worry spectrum spans from mild apprehension to anguish; it moves from irritation and vexation all the way to inconsolable distress. One person's experience of mere annoyance will be another's churning misery. At some point we all need help with worry.

Paul Simon's 1970 "Bridge Over Troubled Water" offers a visual image. We don't stop the tumultuous water when we experience life's deluge, but we can use a bridge. Sometimes we can even be a bridge as we accompany another during a hard time.

This song was inspired by a single line from the Negro Spiritual, "Mary, Don't You Weep," about Mary (the Mary and Martha duo of Bethany) pleading with Jesus over the death of her brother Lazarus:

"I'll be your bridge over deep water if you trust in me," is the portion ensconced in Billboard history after Simon and Garfunkel's version hit number one.

A single line can provide a powerful nugget for us to help focus.

Without dismissing the seriousness of one's worries, how can we be encouragers and hold the light up for one another -- and for ourselves -- as we navigate the choppy water?

• When fears sets in, begin by turning that cyclic worry into prayer. Let the things that would take us away from God move us toward God.

• Talk truth to yourself. Even if no one has ever whispered these words into your heart or ears, hear them now: Tell that fear that holds you in its clutches that you are unavailable -- that the One who speaks and all creation listens abides with you, giving power to the faint and strengthening you for the onslaught of worry and anxiety.

• Speak the same truth into anxious moments and doubts. Doing so may not remove the circumstances, but it will change the stranglehold circumstances can have on our lives. From this point, we can breathe.

• Know the importance of living in the present. Stay in the 'now.'
  

Remind yourself: You are a beloved child of God -- one with inadequacies and frailties common to humanity, but a child greatly loved nonetheless.

This understanding does not magically erase the worry-habits that hold some of us captive, nor does it makes us bulletproof for temptations and fears. I think it makes us all the more a target -- a target for the enemy's attack on our faith and commitment to live lives connected to God. But when we live with an increased awareness of God's Presence with us in the present, strengthening us for whatever we endure, we can allow God's Spirit to permeate us with the Peace of God's making which far exceeds any confidence we have from our own accomplishments.

This bridge comes with an invitation from Jesus: "I will be your bridge over deep water if you trust in me." He will make a way for us.



1958 Swan Silvertones version of the Spiritual, "Mary, Don't You Weep"